The Runaway [The Killers]

Their Story

Brooklyn POV

It all started in 2002, I'll never forget the day in that cramped, humid Las Vegas bar. I was twenty one, bartending that night as they began setting up the stage.

"Whose playing tonight Brooks?"

"Some band... they call themselves the Killers." I poured Victor, the regular, his usual draft beer before leaning against the bar to see the people more clearly. "Hopefully they're good. The band that played last night was horrendous." My eyes caught sight of Dave down the end with a face I'd surely never seen before. However he looked nervous, hair recently cut and eyeliner entrapping his brown hues. I wandered my way down and sat two coasters out.

"Hey Dave... You finally brought a friend round?"

"Hey Brooks! I didn't know you were working tonight. Yeah this is Brandon. He's the singer of the band I'm in and we're playing tonight." Brandon lifted his hand in a wave, his mind was obviously somewhere else. Now knowing that he was playing tonight explained the nervous expression written across his boyish features.

"O wow... I've been curious to what genre you've been fiddling with... what can I get you two?"

"I'll get a beer."

"Shot of whiskey.... whichever is cheapest." I chuckled softly and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels, though far from the cheapest, pouring him a heavy shot before setting it in front of him and pouring a second.

"It's on the house darling."

"What about mine?" Dave huffed as I sat his beer in front of him.

"Now now... you don't look like you're about to pass out from nerves." I chuckled once more watching Brandon down both his shots and shake his head. "Brandon?"

"Yeah?" His eyes found mine and I'd be damned if I didn't get lost in those hues for more than I should have in that moment.

"You'll do fine... If you get nervous look at me I'll make a stupid face. Works for everyone else." He laughed weakly before cracking a smile showing off pearl white teeth.

"Thanks..."

"Hey guys it's ready!" My boss Martin hollered at Dave and Brandon before walking off. Brandon took a shaky deep breath as I poured him a final shot. He gave a grateful smile before downing the shot and standing.

"Wish me luck."

"Good luck." I smiled back before returning to my chores at the bar. I couldn't help but settle back against the liquor cabinet once the music started. The bar tended to die down with orders once the acts began because everyone was too busy watching the musicians on stage.

"We're The Killers.... but this won't hurt a bit." That soft voice that was once at my bar now boasted with the confidence fueled with liquor. His eyes found mine as he smirked, the guitar starting the intro of whatever song they were about to play. "This is Mr. Brightside." I stuck out my tongue and he nearly laughed before starting off the song. I couldn't help but absentmindedly tap my foot against the floor and thump my fingers against my arm to the beat. It was catchy and there was no questioning that fact. The rest the of the set I couldn't seem to focus anymore. People started ordering drinks, getting more fucked up so much that their dance moves digressed with each drink. Time flew by and soon enough the music stopped and I was swamped once again with drink orders. The night rushing by like always until that glorious hour of the last dirty glass being set in the washer and the lights getting turned off in most of the bar.

"Great night tonight Brook." Martin hollered and sat the envelope at the end of the bar. "Three grand for you as usual for the week."

"Thanks Marty... I'll see ya Thursday?"

"As always." He gave a nod with the usual cheeky smile before waving. "Lock up doll!"

"Okay see ya!" I hollered back before the door closed. A sigh passed my brims as I looked around while washing my hands. The clock reading four am in giant red letters above the stage. I grabbed my purse and put a cigarette between my brims before walking to the door. I was always cautious at this hour, especially in this part of town. Then again there was a reason I carried a gun tucked into my pants when leaving the bar late at night and alone. I walked out and nearly jumped seeing those chocolate eyes looking at me, cigarette pressed up against his lips. "You forget something?"

"Uh..." He looked down, turning red in the face under the street lights. "No I just wanted to say thanks-um- for calming me down. I tend to get awful stage anxiety." I chuckled and locked up the door, shrugging slightly.

"I get it trust me. I use to be scared of singing Karaoke. You stayed just to tell me that Brandon?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. There is a dinner down the street that has some decent food at this hour." I glanced to his face, surely that alcohol was still giving him some type of courage. He'd changed though into much more casual attire, sporting a t-shirt and jeans.

"I was actually on my way there anyways." I started walking down the block, him by my side. Vegas was the type of town you could walk to nearly anything. I'd rarely take my car considering the price of gas lately, unless it was cold or I knew I was going far. "So Brandon, what do you do besides sing your heart out?"

"It's actually all I do. I stay with my aunt here in Vegas, the rest of my family is in Utah."

"Ah I see. So you want to be a famous musician?" I lit my cigarette finally and took a drag as he nodded.

"Yes. What about you Brooke?"

"I write music and help produce here and there. Surely never planning to be on stage. I would be a ball of nerves." He chuckled and flicked his finished off cigarette to the ground.

"Here I thought you were boasting with confidence! You had me fooled!"

"I didn't need you throwing up on my bar."

"I'm pretty good at holding my liquor. Got any big dreams?"

"Who knows maybe one day I'll just runaway... somewhere else some place good."

"Ain't we all just runaways some how?" He opened the door of the dinner for me as I disposed of my cigarette before walking inside. This was the day I met my future husband. The day this world made so much sense before turning to ruins.